


wasting words on lower cases and capitals

by diets0dasociety



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Blood, Car Accidents, Hospitalization, M/M, Vomiting, i'm sorry for writing this is sad, slightly graphic in descriptions of injuries, this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:45:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7149509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diets0dasociety/pseuds/diets0dasociety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only takes a second.</p><p> </p><p>Inspired by the music video for 'The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows' by Brand New.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wasting words on lower cases and capitals

**Author's Note:**

> (two fics in one day? holy shit)
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> I've been listening to a lot of Brand New recently and was struck with a sudden inspiration to write this after watching the video for one of my favourite BN songs, The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows.
> 
> If you've not seen the video, PLEASE DON'T WATCH IT BEFORE YOU READ THIS. It will spoil it for you.
> 
> Also, if you're reading this, I please beg of you to listen to the song whilst you read. It sets the tone so perfectly, and makes it 100x more emotional.
> 
> Finally, I am as proud of this 2000 word fic as I am of my 20,000+ word fic, which says a lot in terms of how much I put into this fic. I absolutely sobbed throughout writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Thank you <3

It only takes a second.

 

They’re smiling fondly at one another, hands clasped over the handbrake, and singing along to the song playing from the radio. It’s raining against the window, headlights burning a path through the water and into the dark ahead. They don’t know where they’re going, don’t care really, just want to be with each other.

 

Neither notice the turn in the road.

 

-

 

Michael’s running.

 

There’s blood soaking into his shirt, dirt falling from the fabric with every stride he takes. It aches, moving like this, but he feels light and fast and he _needs_ to move. He needs to find him.

 

Every hallway is the same; white light too bright and obtrusive and burning like the tears that fall down his cheeks. Every door is closed, every nurse too busy to stop, every opportunity running away from him.

 

They moved him once they got to hospital. Michael couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel; he collapsed, broken and numb, to the pavement the second the ambulance pulled up. But now he’s sprinting, heavy shoulders bouldering into corners of corridors and edges of desks as he desperately tries to find the only person in the world he needs. He _needs_ to look into those blue eyes, needs to hear him breathe, then everything will be okay.

 

The receptionist won’t acknowledge him, won’t respond to his shaking words and tear stained cheeks, and his chest feels like it’s caving in with every second that passes. He slams his fist onto the desk, knuckles bruised and bloody and skin torn from where his hands had gripped and cracked against the steering wheel. There’s a pager flashing on the desk, and his heart jumps as he watches the message scrolling across it.

 

**_Hemmings, L. Emergency Abdominal Surgery. Theatre Six._ **

Michael falters, knees weak beneath him as he drinks in the information. _Emergency._ Luke’s having _emergency_ surgery, and Michael isn’t by his side. His feet come to life, squeaking against the polished floor as they push Michael to the elevator. He frantically pushes at the flashing buttons, shaking the blood that’s pouring over his fingers to the floor. They collect by his feet in a crimson pool, and Michael’s breath hitches as he remembers.

 

 

_The door to the bathroom is ajar, soft humming floating into the bedroom and settling over Michael as he drifts in and out of sleep. The air is warm, the window cracked open to let the sun filter in and bathe the room in an amber glow. It’s summer; the season of love, and the season they found each other._

_A shout of pain drags Michael from his slumber, muttered curse words replacing the melody escaping the bathroom._

_“Luke?” Michael rises from the bed, wrapping a sheet around his waist and sauntering to the open door._

_Panic washes over him as the first droplets of deep red blood appear on the tiles. In an instant, he drops the sheet, rushing further into the room with heart in his stomach._

_Luke is stood smiling softly back at him through his reflection in the mirror. Michael’s breath catches for a moment, with both relief that his boyfriend is okay and the shock that still takes him over whenever Luke looks particularly beautiful, and his face resolves into a similar smile._

_“I’m okay,” Luke laughs a lazy, breathless giggle. “I just caught myself.” He points to the open slash on his jaw, razor still in hand and foam gathering in the sink. Michael laughs, stepping forward and wrapping both arms around his boyfriend’s waist._

_For a second, they just stand. Michael drinks in the affection in Luke’s eyes as they watch each other in the mirror, bathes in the warmth of his bare stomach and soft back against his chest. He leans in, ever so slightly, to brush a soft kiss over the cut on Luke’s jaw, and the taller boy giggles, turning his head to meet Michael’s lips._

_“I love you,” Luke whispers against Michael’s mouth._

_“For eternity.” Michael whispers back, and loses himself in the love between them._

The elevator reaches the operating floor with a soft thud. The doors creak open, painfully slow, and Michael manically pushes at them, leaving bloody handprints against the cold metal. There’s a monotonous droning in the back of his head, biting at his eardrums and pounding like drums against his skull, but he slides into the hallways and keeps running. He needs to keep running. He needs to find Luke.

 

The hallway is darker, a deep blue like evening sky or unexplored ocean, but the bright white seeping through theatre windows is a harsh reminder of the true nature of Michael’s surroundings. He stumbles when his legs shudder and turn numb, cold shooting through his body as he grasps at a ledge and presses his forehead against the nearest window. There’s blood dripping against the pane, dark purple bruises reflecting back at him, and his breath hits the surface and comes back as a cool wash against his skin.

 

There’s a child on the operating table. Michael watches the pale, small hands as they twitch under the anesthetic, wipes the blood smeared on the glass in front of him to see their face. It takes his breath away, leaves him panting and tugging at the front of his torn and bloody shirt, to see such young, innocent features fighting for life under knives and scalpels.

 

He can’t be older than fourteen; not with the traces of acne that are just pushing red beneath his skin, not with the soft pale cheeks of a boy yet to become a man, not with the button nose and loose hanging blonde fringe that covers his face. His lips are open, wrapped around tubes and wires that tangle down the length of his body and up to beeping machines that loom around him.

 

Michael breathes a shaky breath and looks away, tears freely rolling down his cheeks and pooling with the trail of red that follows him. It’s the obtrusive acne, the innocent features, the messy blonde locks; Michael can’t help but imagine beautiful blue eyes underneath closed lids, can’t help but imagine the boy on the table as the boy he fell in love with all those years ago. The boy he’s never stopped loving.

 

_Water drops from one pale finger to another, skin melting together as their limbs entangle. Michael smiles down at the boy in his arms, closes his eyes just for a moment to make sure he’s not dreaming._

_“Mikey,” Luke giggles, voice cracking and stuttering as he shuffles in his boyfriend’s grip. “You’re wet, get off me!”_

_“Oh, shh.” Michael grips Luke tighter, tracing his fingers over the younger’s hipbones until he relaxes, admits defeat and nuzzles further into Michael’s arms._

_They’re at the beach, basking in the Australian summer sun as it sets over the ocean and sharing quiet whispers of adoration between dips in the water. It’s a new lover’s tryst; a rendezvous of rebellion, the two young boys wasting their days in the sand instead of sat in the classrooms that are expecting them._

_“My mum’s going to kill me.” Luke laments softly, after a moment of silence between the two of them. Michael smiles, placing a fond kiss to his shoulder and humming in agreement._

_“Probably.” He beams into his boyfriend’s skin as the younger begins to giggle, arms shaking and lips twitching in amusement. “Is it worth it?”_

_The pure adoration in Luke’s shining blue eyes melts Michael. Luke reaches up, running soft hands through his boyfriend’s hair before pulling his head down to press a gentle kiss against his lips._

_“Of course,” He smiles. “Spending time with you is worth all the punishment in the world, Mikey. You’re worth the world.”_

_They stay like that, wrapped in each other on top of the sand, letting their inexperienced hands wander against one another’s bodies. Michael tells Luke he is in love with him for the very first time, and Luke shows Michael just how much he loves him back._

Michael’s running again.

 

The burn of vomit crawls up the back of his throat as he moves, mouth too dry to swallow and eyes clouded with tears. He can’t stop, not again, not when his baby is waiting for him. The hallway is getting darker, or is that his eyelids drooping closed? He lumbers onwards with his arms stretched in front of him, stark white bone piercing the skin by his elbow and jutting out at nauseating angles. It’s dark now, almost pitch black, and an anguished cry rips itself from his throat as he searches.

 

There’s a light at the end of the corridor; one final window, a sheer white _“Six”_ embossed above it. And then he’s there, he’s running and he’s so close to him.

 

_“I’m going to marry you, one day.” His blue eyes are honest, shining with emotion and inner beauty. Michael feels that familiar pull in his chest, the steady thump of his heart as it beats solely for Luke._

_“I’m going to love you for the rest of my life,” Luke continues, letting a single tear fall from his eyes. “And I’m going to make you see why am I so inconceivably in love with you, Michael Clifford. You’re going to see the beauty I see. I promise you that.”_

_Michael closes his tired eyes, rests his forehead against Luke as they both shake. The younger kisses his cheek gently, moving down first to his jaw and leaving another kiss there, then down to his shoulder. He presses his lips to every inch of the pale expanse that is Michael’s skin, before they reach the thick red lines at his wrist._

_“I don’t deserve you.” Michael sobs, shaking as Luke pours love into his wounds, smothers him with the care he never knew he needed._

_“Well, you’ve got me.” Luke whispers into his broken skin, “For eternity.”_

 

The door is heavier than anything he’s ever felt in his life. It takes everything inside him, every last shred of hope and desire and love, for Michael to push it open.

 

Inside is chaos. Doctors and nurses run from every corner, each blue gown coated in splashes of red and dark brown, every surface shining from an abundance of crimson or silver. They don’t notice him. They brush past him, like he’s not even there, too focused on trying to save the boy on the table.

 

He can see him; just out of reach, only a couple more steps away. He can see the dirty blonde hair that rests on his forehead, feels his fingertips tingle as he thinks about brushing it to the side. He can see his pale cheeks, with their usual pink tinge lost and replaced by a jungle of tubes disappearing into his mouth and nostrils. He wants to scream, wants to shout at them all and rip those disgusting things away from his beautiful boy so he can kiss his cheeks and brush his fingertips against his soft lips.

 

He reaches his bedside, squeezed between two surgeons. From this close, he can see the deathly white hue to his skin; can watch as his fingers lay completely motionless. He reaches to tangle their fingertips, wants to feel his warmth again, but is met only with cold.

 

 

_Frost forms constellations against his pale skin as they sit, hand in hand. Michael admires the way winter suits Luke; how his blue eyes seem almost icy against the backdrop of snow, how his pale skin is only amplified into celestial beauty. He can’t help but drop a kiss to his boyfriend’s chapped pink lips._

_“Come back,” Luke whines as Michael pulls away. “You’re so warm, Mikey.”_

_“I love you,” He breathes again, left speechless by how such simple requests from Luke can make his heart soar and blood race through his veins._

_“For eternity?”_

_“For eternity, Luke.” Michael smiles against his skin, and lets himself be warmed in the cold by Luke’s love._

 

The tears flow freely now. He’s choked up, words and breath and everything he could possibly think to do all caught in his throat. The surgeons are panicked, frequent beeping and a gut-wrenching, heart shattering flatline screaming from the corner of the room.

 

Michael bends down, bites his lip and wills the tears away as he presses his fingertips to Luke’s cheeks one last time.

 

“I am so in love with you, Luke Hemmings.” He cries, the words cracking as they push past the emotion numbing the back of his mouth. “For eternity. For eternity, and then even longer.”

 

He closes his eyes, and presses his lips against Luke’s. It’s unnatural, it’s different – but it’s _Luke_ and Luke is home _,_ and Michael feels that pull in his chest as he lifts his head away.

 

He feels his fingers turning numb as he steps backwards, feels his limbs start to fade as bodies fill the space he once occupied, taking Luke from his sight.

 

There’s a flicker of the lights, then blue eyes fly open and the boy on the table takes a breath.

 

Pink returns to his cheeks, warmth to his fingertips and life to his eyes.

 

_Luke is safe._

_Luke is alive._

Michael smiles, and blinks to black.

 

-

 

Luke wakes up.

 

Luke wakes up and wishes he didn’t.

 

Death, he tells himself and everyone who will listen, would be preferable to the searing pain he feels in every fibre of his body. Death would surely be so much better than the nauseous ache in every bone when he is told.

 

Vicious sobs tear through his throat, shaking fingers clutch at air as he refuses to listen; refuses to accept what they’re telling him, refuses to accept that his love died at the side of the road. He cannot accept that his _soulmate_ , the sole reason for his existence never even made it into the ambulance, cannot accept that he can never kiss his lips and promise him forever again.

 

Luke wants to be dead, so he can be with Michael.

 

-

 

Months later, when the air is cold and stagnant and the ground is hard to walk on, Luke lets it sink in. He cries for the love he’s lost, cries for the life he’s lost, cries for the pain he feels for Michael and the pain he feels for himself.

 

He kneels in the dirt, runs his fingers down the cold headstone that can never come close to a replacement for the warm skin he misses so much, or the heartbeat he still hears when he wakes up. He cries into the flowers below him, and he sleeps with his chest pressed to the earth, so their hearts can be close once more, whispering words of adoration to the boy he has lost.

 

_“For eternity, Michael.”_

 


End file.
